Fish Tails (83 page)

“What's Tingawa doing for bears?” Abasio murmured to Precious Wind.

“Cross-­breeding with polar bears,” she said. “The ice caps are still going to be there and the ice will be more extensive than it has been in hundreds of thousands of years. There'll be plenty of room for bears.” She headed for the door.

“Where are you going?” called Xulai.

“They may have missed one chunk of that stuff,” she said. “I want a sample.”

“Take this,” said Grandma, handing her the crystal cube that had furnished their quarters. “Tell it what you want. If there is any of the stuff unburned out there, it'll tell you. And by the way, did you intend to pick it up in your bare hands. What were you going to carry it in?”

No reply. Precious Wind flushed.

Grandma shook her head. “You do have a habit of getting too narrowly focused, young woman. Stop and think before you do anything. Tell it what you need.” She indicated the device. “It'll probably think of something.”

The group left turned to food, more as a diversion than because they were hungry. Xulai checked on the babies, who had already been fed to repletion. As Xulai and the others chewed their food, they chewed at the subject without coming up with any new revelations and finally decided they had no reason to stay where they were. Once they were sure the cleanup crew had gone somewhere else, they moved around the charred site, picturing everything they saw, taking notes, taking samples. The crystal cube, which Precious Wind was now calling the Provider, came up with sample holders, tongs for grabbing things, even gummed labels. It did not come up with any samples, and Precious Wind found only two, eating her shoe. She managed to get them into a vial before the leather was quite penetrated.

“We can be back at the Oracles by tonight,” Precious Wind announced. “If Grandma and Needly want to go there to return the Provider they lent us.”

“Willum will be partway back to Wide Mountain by now,” said Grandma, who had decided she really didn't want to go back to the Oracles. “There's no reason we shouldn't head in that same direction. We can always send a messenger to drop the cube off at the Oracles' place. If we take something in our packs to eat on the way, we'll save some time.”

“Leave a riding horse here,” said Abasio. “A horse and a ­couple of blankets. I'll go up there in the woods where Bear was and wait for him and Coyote. I won't be far behind you.” He whispered to Xulai, and she nodded, reaching into the bag she was carrying. She handed him
ul xaolat.

“Read what it said in the daily reports,” she murmured. “It's a nasty, sarcastic device. Don't forget to tell it ‘Yes, Bung Quai!' ”

“Just what I need,” murmured Abasio, putting his arms around her. “A sarcastic assassin. We'll all be there soon.”

“I'll stay with 'im,” Big Beaver offered. “Us n' the animals'll be back tomorrow or the next morning. 'Less'n that Coyote gets into trouble or somethin'.”

Precious Wind and Deer Runner also volunteered to stay with Abasio. Before collapsing the “comforts” provided by the Oracles, they asked the camp to provide various food items they could pack for the journey. The rest of the group packed up and headed north, where an hour later they met the supply wagon Wide Mountain Mother had sent. The arriving wagoners expressed themselves in terms that Mother would never be allowed to hear, turned the wagon around, and headed back the way it had come. At least now they had company.

B
EAR AND
C
OYOTE TROTTED UP
and over the Cow's rump, through a stunted forest of evergreens, along the Cow's backbone, and far enough down the south side that they could see the desert below. Some distance to their left they spotted a large cluster of vehicles and the end of the railway that had extended from this place to the site of the destruction behind them. They moved along the side of the mountain until they could see several men moving in and out of a cave, almost below them. The two animals moved carefully forward until they were almost directly above the cave opening, hidden in a growth of low juniper. The truck that had sprayed the activator was parked in front and the driver was just sitting in it, not doing anything except maybe talking to himself, as his mouth was moving and he kept making violent gestures.

The men working below did not seem interested in what they were doing. When the truck with Abasio's old ganger chief on it showed up, winding its way among the rocks, most of the men disappeared inside the cave. On arrival, all the occupants of the truck but one followed them into the cave. The one who stayed outside was a rather fat man, half bald, with bulgy eyes, a very long nose, a large, ugly scar across his forehead, and a dark face—­Abasio had told Coyote he would see Chief Purple's red face as dark.

The fat man yelled into the cave—­if that was what it was. Bear and Coyote were above it, and couldn't really tell. It was deep enough, at any rate, to hold a wagon and team of eight horses, one of the lead horses saddled, which two of the other men drove out and left standing, one man holding the lead team while the other one loaded things into the wagon.

Bear said, “That wagon's shiny. Shines like water.”

It did shine like water. Like the little metal thing Coyote had given to Grandma.

The driver of the alarm truck got out. His face was dark, too. If both of them had red faces, it probably meant they were both angry. The driver was yelling something, waving his arms, kicking at things, finally turning on Chief Purple and hitting him with a clenched fist. The blow was returned, the fight continued until Chief Purple kicked the man low on his body and then hit him on the neck when he bent over. The driver lay there, perfectly still.

“He fights pretty good for a fat ol' man,” said Coyote. “What's he doin' now?”

“Gettin' something outta that alarm truck. Looks like . . . what're those? Looks like balls kids play with, but shiny. Metal. See, he's turnin' the part on the side. Like it was a honey jar. They're like cans with a top that turns around to make it tight. He's takin' the rope off the side of the truck . . .”

“ 'Basio called it a hose. Looks like a rope but it's hollow in the middle.”

Bear nodded. “Hose. He's fillin' those cans. You 'spose that's the stuff that blew up?”

“Probly.” They watched while Chief Purple filled his containers and screwed on the tops. One of his men took the containers and put them in the shiny wagon while Chief Purple climbed onto the driver's seat. One of the other men mounted the saddled lead horse. Men boiled out of the cave, a dozen mounting onto horses, the others getting into the other vehicles by twos and threes. Coyote had seen guns before; the ­people at the Place of Power had had guns; most of these men were carrying long guns. Chief Purple stood up on the wagon seat to talk at them. A speech, Coyote decided. He was making a speech. His voice was loud, and it carried well.

“Had enough of these blasted fish ­people tryin' to change humans t'suit theirselves. 'Nuf a' these female boss Artemisians. 'Nuf a' all of 'em. We're goin' to the heart of 'em, the place they do the changin'! We gotta poison that'll spread! Goin' to the heart of 'em and kill 'em all. Poison the water where those fish children live, t'ones south a' here, t'ones west a' here. Then we'll get a ship, cross over t'that Tinkywa place, an' kill t'ones there. No more a' this turnin' humin bein's inta fish. Alla Edgers 'r comin'. Meetin' us at Big Mountain!”

There was a ragged assent from the men. Many of those on horseback were leading saddled but riderless horses.

Bear said, “Somma them horses prob'ly belonged to somma those dead ­people the fish blew up.”

Coyote grunted an agreement, then asked, “Where's Big Mountain?”

Bear snorted. “Alla mountains 're big. Wouldn't call 'em mountains if they wasn't big.”

Chief Purple jerked his head at the man on the lead horse, who kicked the horse and its companion into movement. The wagon moved off, headed eastward. The cars and trucks fell in behind it, the dust of their going drifting eastward, as though following them.

Coyote mused, “Why's there a rider on that front horse?” Receiving no answer, he mused a moment more and nodded to himself. “ 'Cause it's too far out in front for the driver to see what's there, I guess.”

“T'other one, he's finished playin' dead,” said Bear, indicating the driver that Chief Purple had left on the ground. The man crawled over to a rock and pulled himself up, shaking his head, then started walking around, kicking at nothing, talking, his voice getting louder and louder. A light breeze brought his words: “Rather die than be put in one a' those fish things. What kinda person'd wanta be put in there? Nobody! Nosir, damn it, nobody! Crazy idjits, how many they gonna kill afore they stop it? Think they're gonna live f'rever? Two hunnert years! Who's had any chil'ren anytime recent? Who's gonna be left in two hunnert years? Nobody much lef'
now
but that idjit n' ­people he's bought. Oh, Gold King, he's one for buyin' he is. Thinks he c'n buy livin' f'rever. T'hell'th it! I say, t'hell'th it!”

Eventually wearying of this, he went into the cave, emerged holding a burning stick that he threw at the activator wagon as he dived down behind a rock. “Duck,” said Bear. The truck blew up like the almost-­fish had. None of the debris reached as far as Bear and Coyote. Satisfied, at least for the moment, the man went back into the cave. They continued to watch. After some time he reemerged, leading a saddle horse and followed by a dog. He stood looking around himself for a long moment before mounting and riding off southward, out of Artemisia, away from the direction the Gold King had gone.

Coyote stood up and shook himself. “Let's look around inside n' then go back to Abasio.”

Below him, there was a tremor and a roar, fire spouted from the cave entrance. Bear watched the flames die, then nodded to himself. “Let's not look around inside,” he said. “No tellin' what else he's got goin' off down there. Let's just go back to Abasio.”

 

Chapter 14

The Official Arrival of Balytaniwassinot

T
HE SHORE OF THE NEW LAKE BECAME NOTICEABLY
longer over the next few hours. The mess left by the cleanup crew was not cleaned up. After a time spent idly deploring the mess, Abasio took the
ul xaolat
from his pocket, pushed what he assumed was the proper button, and asked, “Can you clean up that mess down there? Remove all devices, material, everything, and return it to its pristine state? Without using power that any other person may be in desperate need of?”

The tiny screen went blank for a moment before words appeared:
At last, someone sensible. Yes.
Things on the beach began to disappear. Rails vanished a bit at a time. Equipment vanished, also a bit at a time. Scars made by burning something or other vanished. Tracked sand erupted in tiny volcanoes and subsided, smooth. By the time the sun dropped toward the mountains in the west, everything looked just as nature plus an earthquake would have left it.

Precious Wind grinned and pointed at the device. “Xulai told you about it, did she?”

Abasio made a face at the thing while saying, “Thank you, Bung Quai.” They resumed sitting in reasonable patience halfway up the mountain, waiting for Coyote and Bear.

Abasio heard a sound. “What is that?” he asked no one in particular. The others listened. The sound was a variable hum with an occasional
plunk-­plunk
noise. They could not tell what direction it was coming from. The hum went on, rising and falling in pitch as though something mechanical might be trying to remember a tune. The plunks grew more frequent. Another hour passed and Precious Wind pointed out toward the lake, where bubbles were boiling up from the waters below. As though air were being pumped into the water. Or a cavern had been uncovered.

“Something hollow there and the water just reached it?” Abasio ­offered.

“Somehow I think not,” said Deer Runner, pointing.

Out in the center of the new lake something very large emerged. The bubbles that had accompanied it stopped. Hum was replaced with whir. The thing came toward the shore, came farther toward, reached, rolled up on, an almost spherical thing, four men high and wide, dark-­blue-­blackish-­greenish: flattened on the bottom. It had four wheels, two close together at one edge of the flat side, and two across from them, farther apart. It appeared to have no openings or features whatsoever. Intragalactic modules were not known for their looks.

While the watchers on the hillside stared in total incomprehension, ruminations continued inside the emergent thing. The
arrival
had been
planned
and had
happened,
but
the arrival
had not
happened
as planned
. That fact had preoccupied the occupant of the intragalactic module, IGM, for most of the last three days.

The occupant, Balytaniwassinot, also known as “Fixit,” operator of the IGM, was a galactic sector agent, GSA, who had not intended to cause an earthquake when it had
officially
arrived some days ago. There had been several prearrivals of both agent and module that had occurred covertly, unassumingly, some centuries ago. So long as they never learned about those previous visits, a great many persons in higher-­up galactic supervisory positions (HUGSUPs) could continue filling their working time with harmless self-­admiration. They also knew nothing about the dream interventions Balytaniwassinot had created, which was also a good thing. What they did not know of, they could not investigate. What they did not investigate, they could not recriminate. Dream interventions were Balytaniwassinot's own invention, and the agent intended to keep them strictly to itself. Putting a thing or idea or person in someone's dreams was an excellent way of planting familiarity with that thing or idea or person in someone's unconscious mind. By this time, Abasio should know all about Lom and Plethrob and the sea planet Squamutch, which would greatly reduce the time he would need to become assured of their reality.

The intragalactic module was equipped with an automatic log. The agent also carried a log that it wore at all times except when sleeping. If it removed the log at any other time, it screamed at him. Both logs were “required.” Either or both of them constantly recorded every breath, blink, twitch, fart, belch, action, and uttered word of the module occupant. If an agent did anything at all, the log would record it. Later, an inspector would look at this log, perhaps to barely glance, perhaps to intensely scrutinize. Therefore, in the current situation, it was absolutely necessary that the log report
only
items confirming that the IGM
had just arrived on Earth for the very first time
! Actually, a short time earlier, agent and module had—­as on numerous previous occasions—­landed unseen and unheralded, done what was needed, then departed, meanwhile expunging all log entries concerning the matter. Like the dream interventions, the expunging methods were of the agent's own invention. No one but Balytaniwassinot would have been capable of figuring out the single, albeit extremely complicated way in which official logs could be expunged without leaving any sign at all of the expungement.

Shortly after leaving-­in-­order-­to-­rearrive, the logs were allowed to record the new approach. The sensors said there were ­people gathered nearby who would see the module as it landed or shortly after descent, therefore a
witnessed initial arrival
should occur without problems. The protocol absolutely required that all initial arrivals be witnessed by local inhabitants; that the arrival be
recorded
(including statements made by the arriving official in the local language, offering friendship, brotherhood, trade contracts, voting rights, or whatever other inclusive word seemed appropriate), and that copies of that recorded arrival be provided simultaneously to all planetary population groups. In cases where modules had made contact without a
properly witnessed initial arrival,
whole planetary populations had fallen prey to rumors of invasion from space.

This arrival would have been properly witnessed IF the module's automatic landing sequence had not considered the surface to be landed upon as a
solid
part, when in fact the
solid
part was actually
below
a
liquid
part. Either the charts were wrong or something out there had been modified. OR, which Balytaniwassinot gravely suspected, it was piloting an
improperly programmed module
! Balytaniwassinot's usual module was being refitted, and this one had been offered as a temporary ­replacement.

When arriving on any NEW planet, any properly programmed IGM automatically engaged the “analysis of landing site” series before setting down. This planet, Earth, was considered to be NEW—­that is, new to sector scrutiny, though it was far from new to Balytaniwassinot. IF the “analysis of landing site” had been engaged, it would have detected water where no water had previously been, and there would have been no crash. Instead, the module had plunged loudly through the water and into the fabric of the world, occasioning a considerable quake. The module seemed to be undamaged, but there had been damage to the local fabric, which had to be repaired to prevent further subsi­dence. IGMs were not routinely equipped for repair while submerged; it had taken a good deal of both time and originality, during which the module had been invisible underwater. The ­people, persons, local inhabitants who were
needed
to make this a
witnessed initial arrival
had meantime dispersed. Dispersed completely! Leaving no sign they had been here where there had been a considerable clutter of persons and equipment before!

When Balytaniwassinot had first arrived on Earth a long, long time ago, the planet had indeed been NEW to galactic visits. At that time ten or twelve hundred years ago, Earth had not been listed. Since it had been unlisted, it had also been unscheduled for inspection, evaluation, or analysis. When Balytaniwassinot/Fixit had happened upon the solar system, Self was merely taking a little side trip, an unscheduled dawdle, an unauthorized wander. It was notable that even on that occasion, very shortly after being hired, Fixit had already figured out how to fiddle the logs. Indeed, if it had not figured out how to fiddle the logs, Self would not have accepted the job. Some creatures, Self told itself, were simply not designed to accept supervision.

So, on that long-­ago first visit, without authorization or any previous information, Fixit had landed to do a preliminary analysis only to have the analysis forced upon it. Fixit was new to the job, a neophyte, but it had taken only a glance to learn that the planet was all wrong and getting wronger by the hour. The dominant race had largely wiped out all other creatures. The world had overheated. Something called a Big Kill had been or still was going on, and it was eliminating most of the dominant species. Since members of this dominant species (beings that were mostly myth-­driven and incapable of analytical thought) were the source of the world's wrongness, their reduction in numbers was probably not a bad thing.

But, the longer Fixit stayed, the more of the dominant species it met, the more troubled it became. If the remainder of the dominant species had been
uniformly wrong,
any galactic officer making an evaluation would have done its duty and would have immediately eliminated the species, notifying the Supreme Council it had done so. That officer would in all probability also have received a bonus or upgrade in pay or position.

But the species, what was left of it, was
not
uniformly wrong, and Balytaniwassinot was
not
just any galactic officer
.
Balytaniwassinot felt the members of the species who were
not wrong
did not deserve elimination. Though in the minority, they had bao and were therefore worth considerable effort. Besides, Self's pride got in the way. At that time Self was still young. No one in authority had ordered Fixit to save those of Earth who had bao, a task that would require great amounts of time and ingenuity. Given the cost, it was unlikely anyone in authority would have done so. However . . . one might attempt it on the sly.

The problem as Balytaniwassinot saw it was:
Separate the part of the population who are myth-­driven from that part who are bao-­driven. Myth-­driven persons believe they are immortal, god-­governed, god-­shaped, that the universe was constructed just for their use. They also perceive that their directive deity drives them not through reason, but through reward and punishment, like livestock.

Bao-­driven ­people do not believe they are immortal or that they are shaped like god or that the universe or any world in it was made for their use. Therefore, those who are bao-­driven should be willing to change shape, disvow ownership of the planet, and refuse to be motivated by threat or reward that is contrary to reason.

That was it. Problem and solution. Mankind could be given the choice of turning into something else. Balytaniwassinot spent considerable time thinking about what that something else should be and was influenced, to some extent, by recent visits to aqueous planets in the Yugrit sytem. That would take care of the actuality. Balytaniwassinot would have to take care of the paperwork! And the paperwork would have to go back to a time before Balytaniwassinot had been born!

Starting from that point,
the best solution Balytaniwassinot could devise required a few very brief time trips back a thousand Earth years or so from that time. Modules were equipped for time travel. Time travel was seldom if ever approved in areas that were interdependent as a time-­line change on one world might have an adverse effect upon a linked world, setting up a chain reaction. However, Earth had had only
one
extra-­system contact with a world part called
Lom,
on Ocalcalcalip, and though there had been some information shared subsequently, there had been no further physical involvement. Changing the past on
this
planet
after
that contact would not affect the other planet. Once the initial shove was given, the plan would require interim adjustments to keep it moving in the right direction, but if successful, the bao-­driven population would be saved.

The first thing to be done was to create an Order to Exterminate Species and get it into the files a very long time ago. The dominant species had already given grounds for extermination and, indeed, was already exterminating itself, so the file would merely establish that galactic officers may have put a finger in the pie. So to speak. All those killing machines and wars and so forth, in fact anything the dominant species had done, would be presumed to have happened in accordance with the extermination order. All such orders were required to “seem” natural to the planet's history, so that part would be easy.

Then to save the members of the dominant race that
did not
deserve extermination, there would have to be some kind of exception made. Balytaniwassinot studied the species. It watched them. It looked at the things they had done and not done. Eventually, it drafted an Amendment Resolution.

Amendment Resolution below, voted unanimously by Galactic Supreme Council preliminary to carrying out the order:

Re: Mankinds. Order Exterminate Species (WmQr988856082). Remarkable talents shown by a minority of this species indicate the possible presence of bao: individuals possessing bao are invariably exempt from Orders to Exterminate Species. To identify those individuals with bao, present individual mankinds with an extermination problem solvable only through bao, allowing those with bao to survive.

Getting the papers into the files was no problem. All agents spend an apprentice century. Balytaniwassinot had spent its apprentice century as a file clerk. The files were foolproof. Everything was entered five times in five different ways, but Balytaniwassinot knew them all. First some documentation to establish that this planet had been listed before. Then the OES defining it as a plague species, and dated long enough ago that no one remained in office who might have known about it. And finally, the Amendment Resolution allowing interference to protect those with bao. All of it long enough ago that no one would be surprised to have forgotten about it. To Galactic Officer Balytaniwassinot, the planet was NEW. Self imagined its surprise when it dug into the files and found the planet wasn't new at all. What a shock it would be! Tsk-tsk. And again, tsk.